Once They're Gone
by UrbanAuthor
Summary: With the criminal population in the metropolis of Gallifrey at high standards, UNIT created a new system. Experimenting on criminals with the deleting of their past and the replacement of an ordinary life, Oswin Oswald was one to instruct them through the process and simulation. But when she meets The Doctor, will she want him to forget her? (Dystopia Whoufflé AU)
1. Chapter 1

**Part One: An Empire's Criminal  
**

_**The Scientist by Coldplay**_

_Come up to meet you, tell you I'm sorry_  
_ You don't know how lovely you are_  
_ I had to find you, tell you I need you_  
_ Tell you I'll set you apart_

_ Tell me your secrets and ask me your questions_  
_ Oh let's go back to the start_  
_ Running in circles, coming in tails_  
_ Heads on a science apart_

_ Nobody said it was easy_  
_ It's such a shame for us to part_  
_ Nobody said it was easy_  
_ No one ever said it would be this hard_  
_ Oh, take me back to the start._

_ I was just guessing at numbers and figures_  
_ Pulling your puzzles apart_  
_ Questions of science, science and progress_  
_ Do not speak as loud as my heart_

_ Tell me you love me, come back and haunt me_  
_ Oh and I rush to the start_  
_ Running in circles, chasing our tails_  
_ Coming back as we are_

_ Nobody said it was easy_  
_ Oh it's such a shame for us to part_  
_ Nobody said it was easy_  
_ No one ever said it would be so hard_  
_ I'm going back to the start_

* * *

**Chapter One: A Man of Abattoir **

She seemed to always be staring at him, and not in an affectionate way, not even a peculiar way either; it was the way that one looks at a ghost, properly frightened, yet with a pang of sorrow and lonesome depression. Amelia Williams never really understood John Smith, and John Smith never really understood her, in fact, John Smith never seemed to understand _anyone_. He was the type of person to snarl at you when you pressured him to an extent, but when you saw his eyes it was as if you understood. His eyes were a concoction of sadness and grief, like a beast in a cage longing to touch the air that he could never breathe, because someone, or _something_, claimed it to be uncivilized. It was like the green of his eyes glimmered in wonder and amazement at how one could seem so extraordinary, almost as if he could never be extraordinary himself. _What's holding him back? _Amelia would ask herself occasionally, for something in his mind had chains around his thoughts, and Amelia never understood why he couldn't just feel _alive _for once in his life.

Yet she still remembers that day, that one day in which everything seemed _different. _She forced him into coming with her to a bar on the twenty-first of October, intentionally forcing him to pour unnecessary alcohol down his throat, and though she felt guilty to so much as admit the truth to herself, it was an experiment. An experiment to conduct his persona when he _wasn't _that grumpy old man stuck in a twenty-seven year old body, when he _wasn't _sober, when the chains of his thoughts loosened up just enough for him to be set free. Basically, she just wanted to know what he would act like when he was drunk. And needless to say, it was rather entertaining. When John was delirious, it was like his face screamed a persona of independence and humor, as if the man she saw on a daily basis was chucked into a waste basket. (Old man by day, drunk giraffe by night, Amelia would call it.) It was just so _different. __I should take him out to drinks more often. _Amelia suggested to herself. Yet she didn't dare; she couldn't possibly do that again. (John still didn't know the one responsible for his next-day hangover.)

_"Why are you nice to him?" Adam asked in a confused state. "John's nothing but hatred, you know, and I suggest that-"_

_"Adam." Amelia said, staring at him sternly, yet a pleading tone in her voice. "Don't you ever think that he's lonely? Have you ever considered that, maybe he needs somebody to talk to? He's not the best at his conversational skills, I'll say that, but...he has nobody. And he's not going to change if we just ignore him."_

John himself didn't understand why this Amelia Williams would talk to him either. He didn't understand why she said hello to him in the office every morning, he didn't understand why she would make him coffee on a regular basis, he didn't understand why she'd just _smile _at him whenever she said a goodbye. John was a massacre, as if all the things inside himself had died and eroded away, and even he didn't see a reason to like himself. Yet, there was always that Amelia Williams with the ginger red hair and the genuine Scottish accent. It was as if she wasn't afraid of going into a cage of lions. She was a brave one, Amelia Williams.

It wasn't obscure, John Smith was a mad man. He was like a younger Albert Einstein, the gravitational hair and everything. He seemed to have an endless collection of science fiction comics and physics textbooks, Amelia would find them in piles about his office territory in the morning as she came into work, for John certainly wasn't one to read one thing at one time. Books lay open on his chairs and atop his computer monitor, bookmarks sticking out in various places and dust covering the ones he already read. A downside to being 'working buddies' with him was just that he was just so _unorganized_, yet it was a beautiful sort of messiness.

She walked past the skyscrapers that towered above her ginger hair like titans looking down on mere mortals, her heels too high and her skirt too short. She had gotten the job for technological research about a year ago, right after she found out that a kissogram wasn't exactly an honorable thing to boast about at a Pond reunion, and for the fact that Rory Williams certainly wasn't in love with the whole ideal of it. She'd married him a mere three years ago, and yet it seemed as though he didn't have time for her, but likewise, she didn't have time for him. It just didn't occur to Amelia how terrible that really was, but regardless she did have hopes for her to spend more time with her husband.

Amelia found John outside of their office building, a cigarette held between his index and middle finger. She cringed at the simple sight of it, she didn't exactly know why, it's just that after knowing how dilapidated your lungs could become after an unhealthy habit of smoking, she didn't have too pretty opinions on the whole idea. He took a long drag on his cigarette and then blew somewhat amazingly pristine smoke rings, which Amelia did have to admit looked pretty amazing, and yet so disgusting at the same time. She sighed, her grip on the strap of her purse tightening as she tried to manage herself. "...must you smoke?" she questioned him in slight distaste, narrowing her eyebrows as the scent of the foul smoke could be tasted in her mouth. He looked at her with a blank expression, almost as if he hadn't been acknowledging her presence until that point, at which he just stared at her, turned away to look at the passing cars, and just stuffed his hands in his pockets, the cigarette dangling from his mouth. "It's a metaphor." he said dryly, his eyes still fixed onto the road. Amelia rolled her eyes. The back-talk of a bookworm.

She sighed in exasperation, for her persuasion typically had the least bit of effect on John Smith. Amelia pushed her way past him to walk through the revolving doors, John finishing his cigarette and rubbing it into the ground with the sole of his shoe, him following Amelia directly behind her. "You know, one day you're going to realize how all that smoking leads up to _terrible _lung support." she reprimanded him nevertheless, strutting into the building as most women do, having exquisite sass with one foot in front of another. "I mean, at least learn to _control _it. Sure, Adam and a lot of other coworkers smoke, but not so much as _three _packs a day,"

"They smoke to enjoy it. I smoke to die."

"And would you _stop _quoting books?" she turned around to face him, her heels planted firmly on the ground. "And...and stop being so negative all the time!" she cried.

"I'm not negative, I'm _realistic__._" he gave her an unforgivable look, pushing past her and heading towards the elevator, leaving Amelia to ponder for herself. She never really considered John ruining his lungs for the purpose of death, sure, he wasn't the most easy-going social, but she never thought that his perspective on life would seem so _morbid. _It was when Amelia realized that maybe she was going insane. She didn't know what she was doing with John when all she was to him was his clingy mother figure, and he was the teenager going through that unforgiving phase of adolescence. She was really trying to at _least_ get them to the point in which they could have a comfortable conversation, yet out of two years of working with him, she had resolved with nothing other than a giggly drunk giraffe.

But yet crazy she may be, she still wasn't giving up.

* * *

**Three Years Ago, April  
**

_Malcolm walked into the UNIT underground entrance, the metal door giving a generous bang as it slammed behind him, yet he was used to it. (Well, after ten years of hearing that sound, not hearing it would seem suspicious.) He walked down the gloomy corridor alone, for he was a single worker for UNIT's technological research, and therefore was known as the lone secretary. Malcolm didn't mind though,working alone. What mattered was that Kate trusted him with the minutes of their confidential meetings and their notations of UNIT's new project, titled as 'Regeneration'. The whole project was really quite fascinating, and luckily, it seemed simple to explain. (Just difficult to perform.) _

_Kate was simply perturbed that criminals around the Gallifreyan area were getting generously out of hand, so she had the new idea of how to manage their behavior without the punishment of a prison cell. She had conducted a mind of a criminal and simulated them through a series of tests in order to design an apt mental microcircuit that would contain the basics of living a normal life, for example, having a career. They would inject the microcircuit through a mere surgical procedure, therefore rewriting the history of a criminal's life of felonies and replacing it with the life of an ordinary human being. It was a brilliant idea. _

_Kate had strictly informed Malcolm not to let any details of the project leave UNIT headquarters until everything was confirmed and set to start, which was a decent seven months away. _"We don't want the media to question us until we know all of our answers." _she had told him, and being the respectful and loyal worker that he was, he kept his mouth shut. UNIT never wanted attention; they never made it in the news. What happened in UNIT stayed in UNIT, and that's how it always was. The computer in the technicians office was located at the back of the room, away from sight and away from attention. But before heading over to start the day of organizing files, he took a quick stop to his work locker to drop of his coat.  
_

_As he opened the metal door, a fresh aroma of coffee greeted him atop of his books, the caffeine still fresh and hot. Malcolm spotted a sticky note attached to it's white mug, it's handwriting unrecognizable. _Drink up. _Malcolm looked around the empty corridor, wondering who could have placed it inside. It could have been Vastra for all he knew, she did want that promotion. Nevertheless, free coffee was free coffee, and being somewhat delirious, Malcolm carefully picked it up and took a sip of it. It was a bitter and yet different taste, and Malcolm seemed to take a particular liking into it. He should thank whoever made it for him. If he ever found out. _

_Grabbing his keys to the technicians office, hidden at the back of his locker, he closed the door, taking a sip of his coffee and walking towards the back room, his footsteps rebelling against the persisting silence. Fumbling with his keys, he picked out the correct one, unlocking the door and opening it, him shocked to see that the room was in utter ruins.  
_

_It was a complete scene of a finished chaos. The shelves were tipped over, books lay defiantly on the ground, the computer monitor shattered into glass remains, the hard drive crashed into pieces, containing information that he knew that UNIT would never get back. Malcolm looked at it all in shock, his eyes wide and his snarl becoming even angrier. He bent down to inspect the broken metal and glass, in the midst of the wreckage, the cap of a pen drive. _

_He jumped back onto his feet in fright. Someone had been here, someone had taken UNIT's archives and has destroyed the computer to get rid of them. At least that was Malcolm's theory. But as he looked up from the shatters, something even more perturbing was there to greet him. _

_On the wall, directly in front of him, there were words spray painted in a blood crimson. _

Much Love, The Doctor

_The coffee mug fell to the ground, breaking into pieces and adding along to the disarray, Malcolm falling with it, landing dead on the floor. _

_No wonder the coffee tasted so bitter._

* * *

All his life he had been running.

Okay, not literally _all _his life, (Hyperbole issues...) but one would understand the primary point. John kept secrets that lingered inside of him like poison, yet he kept them well hidden, to the point in which poison became his blood. He was like Pandora's box, open him and all immorality would be shot into the world like the bullet of a gun, fast, and deathly. People thought he was hollowed out, no, he was quite the opposite. He had been hiding things that an ordinary child had nightmares about. He was insane. He thought nightmares were beautiful. John was holding too much in, like a balloon ready to burst, and yet he had managed to keep himself withdrawn from any attention, all except Amy's. She was the needle.

Nobody could expect him to the suspect of their problems, an anti social office worker with a quiff that rebelled against all laws of gravity. And in order to keep it that way, he had to tell lies, he had to keep secrets hidden. _Secrets keep us safe. _He wasn't the most likable person, no, but he was sure clever. He had always been clever.

John had motives of his felonies. He didn't commit them for money, he didn't commit them for attention.

He committed them out of jealousy.

* * *

**Three Years Ago, August  
**

_Martha Jones walked into the TARDIS Chronicle at a precise time of six in the morning, a red leather coat draped around her left arm and a purse in her right hand, dumping all of the contents onto her desk. She was TARDIS's top reporter, a reliable one at the least, writing front page headlines for a minimum wage. It was a decent life, one that would be described at content, but that didn't always mean satisfying. Martha had a husband, she had a child, she had an overall pleasant life, but nothing really seemed to happen. Sure, she was writing about these top political stories and new enlightenment in science, but she was writing about other lives, other people's success. Nobody notices the one who tells, just the one who stars.  
_

_She tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear as she walked over to the wall of commercial mailboxes on the opposite side of the room, pulling her mailbox key out of her pocket and unlocking the fifth one on the second row. As she pulled open the door, an assortment of slim white letters were pulled out, but what seemed unusual was a large manila envelope stuffed in the back. Martha carefully pulled it out, trying not to dent or fold the packaging. There was no return address on the front, just her name and the address of TARDIS printed neatly in a permanent marker. She looked at it in puzzlement, for it wasn't suspicious, it was just unexpected. Nobody ever sent her packages, for there was no need to.  
_

_Martha disregarded the rest of the envelopes, placing them in her desk drawer for later and scooting her chair up to straighten her posture. The manila envelope stared back at her blankly, her conscious instructing her to open it, and yet she found the resentment not to do so. Whatever was inside, it was meant for her. So with an oblivious mind as to what the contents could be, Martha carefully opened the envelope and peered inside. Her eyes narrowed at the small device that lay at the back of the envelope, so she carefully took it out, baffled at the sight of it. She held it in between her index and middle finger. A pen drive. Why such large packaging had been used to carry such a little object? But another question had already claimed her mind.  
_

_Where was the cap?_

* * *

Amelia typed faster than she usually did that morning, maybe it was the coffee, or maybe it was to get the worries farther away from her mind; she wasn't quite sure. All she knew was that today, all cities in Gallifrey were lining up to be included in its mass of a population. The nation had a census every other year, to calculate its cities populations and add all of them up to its total. Amelia lived in Gallifrey's capitol. It was the rising nation out of all; it was the most wealthy, and yet the most dangerous. There were murderers and robbers prowling about its cities, hiding from attention, and though Gallifrey was powerful, its citizens slept scared. Yet they needed the money it provided, including Amelia.

But she knew that when Gallifrey's UNIT had caught a new criminal, they would take care of them in a way that didn't include punishment. Three years back, an anonymous source had leaked UNIT's project information to the media, information that wasn't supposed to be spoken of until everything was clarified. UNIT didn't speak about the matter, they kept their mouth shut about _Regeneration_, that's the was the name that was chosen for the project, according to the media. But what they _did _say to the media was to look out for a new criminal, a mysterious criminal.

They said to '_fear The Doctor_'.

It practically became the new hash tag.

The media had started the rumor that this 'Doctor' was the one who leaked out the information, yet UNIT didn't say anything else. Amelia didn't know exactly what to say to all of the nonsense, or even more so how to react. All she knew was that The Doctor was running away from UNIT, and he sure as hell didn't want to get caught. It was self-explanatory. He could have committed any of the other anonymous crimes that were spoken of in the news, she didn't know. Nobody did. He was a mystery, he was an enigma, invisible felonies lay on his hands and nobody except him knew it. Amelia was scared, of course she was, but that didn't get in the way of her life. She had a husband, she had friends, she had a job, and no Doctor was going to kill the moment. No matter how close he was.

* * *

**Three Years Ago, October**

_"Kate!" Osgood scrambled down the hallway, managing to pick up her scarf and her lab papers in one trip. "Kate, I have some new data, and...though it's not much, it gives us some new leads...and some new dead ends." she shook her head, walking into her office on a rainy Thursday morning, the rain pounding down from above their underground headquarters. Kate stared at her in concern, indicating for her to continue. Osgood nodded her head promptly, flipping the papers attached to her clipboard. "Uh, well, judging by the fingerprint simulations this one's definitely a man, and though we have DNA from the computer wreckage it doesn't match anybody in our records."  
_

_"Nobody?" Kate asked, somewhat baffled. _

_"I know, it's peculiar, it's just as if whoever this man was, he erased himself from any form of database on UNIT." she shook her head, flipping through her papers yet again.  
_

_"You got to admire that man's cleverness." Kate admitted staring off into the far distance. "We have to find him before he does anything else to release us to the media."_

* * *

John had dexterity, it was no lie. Amelia depended on him for when her computer froze, or whatever computer technician's problem she had, and he didn't mind; it was the only _good _thing that he could do. Staring at computer screens and surrounding him with books and science was his life, well, his life now. Things were so different years ago, and he'd tried to forget everything and just _live_ like an ordinary human being, but an ordinary human being was the one thing he could never be. John lived in regret, he lived in depression, he lived in the ashes of smoke, and he couldn't help but do anything but that. He had been insane, that part still in him but keeping itself quiet, like a tumor that could come back any day it wanted to. His life was a massacre, and there was no way out of it, other than death. But death, to him, was an act of cowardliness, and he was in no way a coward. At least he thought so.

Amelia glanced over to the bottom right hand corner of her computer screen, the tiny letters telling the time. _11: 42. _"John," she said to him across desks, not looking up from her work and continuing to type. "We have to get going if we want a decent place in line, you know the crowds are like hell in this city." she shook her head, her mouse at hand and clicking to save her work. He looked up from his computer to give her a puzzled look. "Where are we going; what lines?" he asked. Amelia stood still for a few moments, wondering how he didn't know. "We're...we're going to the census." she eyed him suspiciously, for it had been the headline news for the past few weeks. He gulped. "That's..._today?_"

Amelia raised an eyebrow. "John, they've been talking about the census for weeks now, don't you read the newspaper?" He didn't respond, only to look down at his hands, which were still poised atop his keyboard. "No...I guess not." he muttered. Amelia scratched her head, for it seemed as though _everyone _in Gallifrey knew about the census, it wasn't confidential and it certainly wasn't an ordinary gathering of citizens. "You have _been _to the census before, right?" she asked, for it was mandatory for all to go. "Um, yeah, course, why wouldn't I have gone?" he sputtered out, which wasn't a complete lie. He stopped going after he turned twenty, for reasons that were strictly confidential. "...well then," she finally said after a long respite dedicated to her confusion and thinking, closing down her computer. "It's today, and...you're coming with me."

His head snapped up. "Amelia...I can't, really, you don't have to-"

"John-"

"Amy, I _can't_ go-"

"You have to-"

"_I can't-_"

"_John!_" she shut him up, staring at him coldly. "I'm...I'm _trying _here, okay? For the past two years I've been trying to be nice to you, and with a little thing like this you can't even agree on it?" she blurted out. "John, I don't know why you keep shutting people out and I don't know _why _but don't you think that one day you finally need to stop?" she sounded angry, but even more sad. "Please..." she said weakly. "Just..._trust me for once_." she looked helpless, as if John had hurt her more that he had himself. He stared at her for a moment, giving her that look again, the look in which his eyes glimmered a soft longing for something that she thought was so easy to contain. "...when..." she took in a sharp breath, exhaling slowly. "When did you start calling me Amy?"

He looked up from his shoes, quiet as nothing. He had never meant to affect Amy the way that he had. She was really trying to get him to talk, she was trying to be his best friend, and it wasn't that she didn't try enough, it was that he didn't let her. He had been avoiding the census for seven years. Three censuses he had missed. He knew what would happen when he got there, and he knew that he couldn't run, because if he did, another person in the world would come to hate him. And for once in his life, he was willing to give in; he knew what UNIT was going to do to him, in fact, he was the first person from the outside to find out.

He knew what would happen. But he still agreed to going.

He was doing it for Amy.

* * *

Time seemed to be ticking by slowly, and one would see that as an advantage for John, and yet it was agony to wait. He wanted to get everything over with. He stood as stiff as a board, waiting in the tedious line as people passed through each scanner. That was how the census would work. Twenty lines, thousands of people, twenty scanners, one population. At each scanner sat a UNIT officer, the scanner detecting their DNA and pulling up their UNIT profile on the computer that sat before them. That's what John seemed to fear the most. UNIT had his DNA somewhere in their files, and even though he was deleted from their database, they still had him. He didn't sweat though, yet his brain was a disarray as it felt the impact coming from the beat in his heart. He was scared.

Amy was right in at the front of the line soon enough, almost as if John had traveled through time too quickly, and watched her as she stepped though the metal scanner, the UNIT officer reading the computer information before him, the screen turned away from his eye sight for security reasons. After a few slow seconds, the officer nodded his head towards Amy, allowing her to walk through the metal turnstile. John froze. This was it.

The UNIT officer stared at John suspiciously, for his feet had refused to move. "Sir, please step through the scanner." the officer said calmly, gesturing her hand towards the contraption that could shut down John's life of running for good. He looked more closely at the UNIT officer, her blonde hair and brown eyes looking at him with concern. John did a double-take, for he had recognized her. She was on the television in the worker's lounge years ago, her mugshot looking deathly and yet flirtatious at the same time. John had heard about used to be a criminal, living a life of stealing from exhibits, leaving her signature _Bad Wolf _name spray painted in a hot pink across the walls of the rooms in which she had stolen from, that's the life she used to have, running, stealing, being called the Bad Wolf. And now, as John had heard from his coworkers, she was called Rose Tyler, working for UNIT like her past life had never happened.

That was what UNIT did.

They didn't discipline them to live a better life.

They brainwashed them to live a new one.

"Sir," Bad Wolf, or, now as they say it, _Rose Tyler _said, snapping John out of his thoughts. "Please, step through." she repeated herself. John suddenly looked ahead of him, and as if operated by parts, he did as he was told. He then stood in the middle of the scanner, frozen, as if he knew what was coming, and everything in his mind seeming to be blank for a few moments. To his left, Rose looked at his profile in concern, her eyes suddenly filling with hatred. The DNA, it matched a man that should be dead for what he had done.

It matched _The Doctor's _DNA.

Alarms went off like firecrackers as officers surrounded him in an instant, guns pointed out in as a severe warning of death, the one thing that John hated the most. _Guns. _Amy immediately turned around, shocked to see John surrounded by men and women with things that could shoot. "We found The Doctor, UNIT HQ, I repeat, we have found The Doctor." one of them spoke into a receiver. And suddenly, everything began to fall into place for Amy. The looks, the blockade of her life into his, him trying to kill himself slowly with cigarettes. It all seemed to make sense. "No..." Amy said, for John wasn't a criminal. "_No!_" she screamed, forcing herself over the turnstiles and trying to push herself through the officers to him, disadvantaged to their strength and persistence. She didn't knew when she had started crying either. "No, please!" she pleaded. "You can't take him, you _can't!_" she was able to allow herself into the circle of officers, only to be held by two at each of her arms. "Please..." she cried, staring at him. He walked up to her slowly, guns still pointed but not willing to shoot, and staring at her kindly, he gently placed a kiss on her forehead, and for once in his life, he smiled at her. "I'm sorry." he muttered to her as the grip on her arms by the officers were strengthened. Amy winced at the pain and the torment as John stood in the middle yet again, laughing mockingly at everyone around him. "So," he yelled out, his anger reappearing. "You got me."


	2. Chapter 2

**Part One: An Empire's** **Criminal**

_"I became insane, with long intervals of horrible sanity." -Edgar Allan Poe_

* * *

**Chapter Two: Psychosis  
**

**Seven Years Ago, December  
**

_John held his mother's hand, so delicate in his, and yet he knew she was strong enough to withhold his tight grip. She was dying, and he knew it, and yet his mother still held the ability to smile gently at her own son as his tears blurred his vision. "It's okay John, it's going to be alright." she would repeat, and albeit its repetition, it had its difficulty on making even the slightest bit of an impact on him. The hospital had such a forlorn, ghastly scent to it, one that swept through you until you practically became a part of it yourself, like wind rushing thorough pipes. The coughing, the mutters, and the smell of flowers, how he dreaded their fragrance. He hated being there in the first place, and he swore that he would never return, not even if he were dying himself.  
_

_And yet, he was there, not once, but a second time, and this visit around, he'd be losing the other parent. His father had lost his life to broken glass cutting his skin and a steering wheel suffocating his chest, for John, only twelve years old, had then been informed that vodka, driving, and swerving eventually lead to death. And now, he learned that waiting too long to seek medical assistance also lead to death. So there he knelt, in front of his mother's fading soul, tears coming down from a feeling that he hardly ever felt.  
_

_His mother was simply beautiful, even in the state that she was in. His mother's long brown hair slowly faded into a glistening silver, her face aging even more so only because she smiled so much. Mary Jane Smith had lived an ordinary life, not too terrible and yet not so perfect either, and she didn't see death as her son saw death, she saw death as waking up from a dream. Some lasted longer than others, and dreamers, she knew, were scared of watching their world fade to white, if that's what death was really like, she didn't know yet. But she was going to find out, she knew.  
_

_She looked over to her son, his eyes hidden from her view, as if he was embarrassed; as if he was angry with the world for taking his mother away from him. The corners of her lips curved into her last smile as her right hand was weakly raised up to cup her son's delicate face, his eyes meeting hers hopelessly. And then it happened. His mother died, taken into a place of pure paradise, the hospital walls fading from into the walls that she couldn't understand, the walls of an infinity, the endless stars that led her further and further away from where John wanted her to be.  
_

_She lay still, as if all the energy had vanished from her, as John choked down his sobs in disbelief, for yes, it was unforgiving and yet the truth to say that his mother was dead. He stared at her in a forlorn state of being, carefully placing her motionless hand atop of her stomach, for this, this was not his mother anymore, just a dead corpse without life. John wanted to crumple on the ground, hiding his face from sight as the tears defiantly flooded, for he was a combustion of things: depression, anger, and the one that he could sense the most, confusion. _

_But as the depression subsided, anger took its place, and anger could never be tamed by a man such as he. John moaned in the agony, leaping onto his feet, pulling at his long hair and tearing at his skin, wishing that the blood would just seep through already, for he, he wanted to wake up from his dream. He wanted to die. His back slammed against the weak wall of the hospital room as he sank to the floor in defeat, the tears drying as his growls became louder, wanting to scream. "Damn it, damn it..." he repeated, for he was jealous, he was envious of the people who didn't have to face the death of the people that mattered the most. __His mother was his everything, and without an everything, he felt as if he had nothing._ He felt angry, he felt puzzled, but even more so, he felt lost.  


_He stood up in vexation, pushing the vase of flowers off of the bedside table, the glass shattering into pieces that he knew would never be counted, leaving the flowers to die of thirst themselves. The sound from the break was piercing, it was loud, but not loud enough. Not loud enough to bring her back, to let her eyes open again. And with that being the last sound he'd ever remember in that retched place, he ran out of the door.  
_

_The nurses weren't too pleased either to see that he hadn't paid for the vase._

* * *

People taking a stroll down the sidewalks turned to look at the wailing complain of UNIT's sirens as John was whisked away within their vehicles, silver handcuffs making imprints on the skin of his wrist. The towers seemed to be looking down on him too as he sat still, his eyes fixed onto the road up front as if he were driving himself. He didn't try to fight against the protagonists, that is, if John were to be considered _as_ the antagonist, it could could go any other way. The people couldn't see his face through the tint, and besides, even if they could, they wouldn't recognize him anyway, but that was soon to change. The media around Gallifrey would be releasing his name, they'd be releasing his image, they'd be telling the nation what he had done so that people could only look down on him in disgust. John was rather fond of the fame that was to come. He knew what he was getting.

Yet as the city buildings that scraped the sky started to subside into what looked as though ordinary warehouses, his somewhat unenthusiastic chauffeur muttering something into his receiver, as if he didn't want anyone else to hear him. John rolled his eyes. "Two minutes." his chauffeur spoke promptly to someone that John wasn't aware of, him turning the steering wheel with a swift ease as he pulled into the driveway of a steel walled warehouse with a broken in exterior. The car rolled into one of the numerous parking garages, the light fading from a blazing gold to a dim and ghastly silver. As the vehicle came to a complete and deafening stop, the chauffeur taking out the keys, another man in a UNIT uniform opened the left door and hastily dragged John out by the chain connecting his handcuffs. The criminal grunted as the skin of his wrist turned red, the officer leading him to a series of elevators, one conveniently open with a woman standing inside.

Her blonde hair was cut short, as if she had cut it because long hair was too stressful to manage with such a position as hers; she was not particularly young and yet, not particularly old. She wore a deep blue business suit, her hands neatly folded behind her back and her face emotionless as John stepped into the elevator. Once the doors closed, officers on either side of the two, was the time at which she had decided to start up a conversation. "Does it amuse you?" she asked like a professor reprimanding her rebellious student. "All of this? All of us? The officials of our base _searching _for you as you keep running away, you laughing at us at how we couldn't _possibly _get our hands on you?" her voice remained serious and yet it was calm, John looking at the doors before him. "If it amuses me so much as to see you become bewildered about my whereabouts, then I wouldn't be here." he said calmly.

The woman laughed, her voice sounding professional and in no way friendly. "Then why turn yourself in so easily? I was expecting a little bit more finesse." she replied. John stayed calm, however. "Maybe I felt pity on you for failing so _many_ times to locate me." he retorted, which wasn't particularly true. The woman raised her eyebrow. "Well, the only good thing about you is that I don't have to explain what we're going to do to you." she smile determined. "Considering that you've already read, or should I use the term _stole_, our files on Regeneration." John stayed quiet for once, mainly because he knew clearly that this woman was not going to shut up. "Kate Lethbridge Stewart." she turned to meet his eye. "Pleasant to meet you, Doctor." she paused. "Or should I say John Smith?"

* * *

**Five Years Ago, October  
**

_The sound of the secretary's heels coalesced into the sea of noises from Arcadia's Science Institution, what was known as the most intelligent corporation in the nation of Gallifrey, specializing themselves the the highest form of technological research. Emma Grayling was her name, wife of the well-known scientist and author Alex Palmer, a beauty and yet ever so peculiar. She tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear as she saw her papers being printed one by on__e, her eyes hastily skimming over the swarm of people in the cubicles, the sounds of typing and ringing phones the difference between noise and utter silence. Everyone was so fed up with themselves, horribly rich with families that they couldn't care less about, for their work was what held their true pride and false attention. _

_Emma grabbed her papers, hastily skimming through them for the purpose of making herself look busy. Her hands trembled from unease, as if she had walked in that morning and immediately realized that something wasn't right. Emma had a keen mind for things out of place. It seemed as if there was something horribly wrong, as if there were a noise being drowned by the chaos of the building, yet it still stood alive, lurking about as if it were to scream. It was as if there was something underneath her feet that Emma was too frightened to know about, and she could feel it, she could sense it as if it were contaminating the air she breathed. She didn't know what it was, but she knew that it existed, and yet she couldn't find out with all of the unforgivable noise. _

_The noise. She hated it, she couldn't think, she felt as if she couldn't breathe, Emma couldn't concentrate with her mind in state like this, with the constant noise around her ramming into her brain, pulling her away from knowing what was wrong. She stopped in her tracks, for it seemed as if she was the only one keeping herself still, her fellow coworkers bustling about and pushing themselves past her as she stood frozen, as if she were a statue. She looked over her shoulder at the building's fellow neighbors, as if they were all looking at her, as if they could sense the odd feeling too. Something was horribly wrong, and Emma could feel it, and yet she just couldn't think.  
_

_"Emma, are you alright?" Alexi asked, eying her pretentiously. The secretary turned back slowly to stare at him, a blank expression on her face, her skin pale with fear. "Something's wrong..." she said slowly, and by the somewhat 'normal' eye, it would look as if she were truly, properly mental. "Excuse me?" he snapped, perturbed by her act, his brow furrowing. Emma's facial expression remained unchanged, her lips pale and chapped, the ends of her hair tickling at her jawline. "Something's not right." she said, and like a clock, she kept repeating it. "Something's wrong, something's not right..."  
_

_"Emma, I'm very close to sending you home, if you don't stop-" Alexi warned, but Emma didn't listen._

_"You don't get it." she interrupted calmly and yet warily, as if she were undergoing an ambiguous loss in a matter of seconds. Alexi, however, only gave her an odd look and turned away, the sound of his footsteps drowning into the sea of noise. The scream of the printers rang inside of her head as the patter of the coffee maker shifted her focus from what she was trying to find. The papers in her hands fluttered to the ground like dead leaves, the overwhelming chaos making her head spin and ineptitude intervene with her balance, the weight of her thoughts pulling her down as the noise overtook her mind. She suddenly screamed for quiet as it didn't come to her, people surrounding her and even scared to even come near her.  
_

_She could hear it._

_The noise, the one thing that bothered her, something so crucial and yet it acted so faint. It was the sound of ticking. Not a clock, not of course, but something else. Emma stopped screaming, the hands covering her face slowing lowering themselves from their place. She breathed heavily, her breaths faster than the ticking noise that she heard, and nobody else. Mutters and whispers arose from the crowd that enveloped her, rumors appearing like mist on a window, blocking her from what she really was. She shook her head frantically, for that ticking wasn't from a clock. _

_It was from something even more deadly. _

_"Bombs..." she whispered, trying to get up from her place, but her coworkers thinking otherwise. They sat her back down on the ground, clearly seeing her as insane, as if her words had no impact on them. They were all misled by themselves, all throwing the blame on her as she cried for help frantically, for she could hear it. The ticking. It was as if it was laughing at her. Nobody would believe her in the state that she was in. "She's a peculiar one, alright. That Emma..." she could hear people saying. "I wonder what's wrong with her..." another muttered. But put aside, if they would just look behind all of the noise and the talking, they would hear it too. Emma was just mad enough to try. They attempted to coax her as she continued to plea for help. "Please, please, stop talking...I can hear it...I can hear the sound of bombs..." She knew that she sounded crazy herself, and she already knew that nobody would take her seriously. Just another odd story to be discussed at the family dinner table.  
_

_But it was far too late for that. _

_The sound of the explosions and the piercing cry of shattered glass took everyone's focus away from Emma as the fire and smoke erupted from underneath their feet. Emma snarled at them as the smoke surrounded her, suffocating her as she wanted to yell 'I told you so!' out to anyone who had doubted her, and in this case it was everyone. The building was in chaos, the fire and the ruins falling down atop of them as the sound of even more explosions made Emma's ears ring in pain. She tried to run through the hallways, workers making headlong rushes towards the fire exits, the sounds of screams and pleads as desks were toppled over and ceilings collapsed, the sounds of loud and fading cries as people jumped out of the building's windows, hurdling towards their death below. She knew it was terrible, and yet she wasn't the slightest bit of surprised. She had seen it coming.  
_

* * *

Officers on the ground floor searched his pockets and checked for any forms of weaponry on him, only finding his keys and his remaining pack of cigarettes. "You won't be needing those anymore." Kate noted as the officer placed all the items into a plastic bag, zipping it shut and handing it off to a man in a white lab coat. He was dressed simply, a silver waistcoat framing his lean body as underneath it he wore a smoke blue tuck-in, his slacks without a trace of dust; and overall, a clean appearance. John's usual quiff of hair fell into his eyes as he hastily flicked it away, muttering to himself at the fact that he couldn't smoke. "You will be assigned to a psychologist who will assist and supervise you while you take your tests and simulations, and your results will help the scientists conduct your microcircuit." she informed him as if a form of explanation were required.

"Don't I already know?" he retorted, earning a pretentious glare from the woman. "This way," she instructed, the officer tugging on his handcuffs as if he were a mutt on a chain. John obeyed, pacing himself down the desolate hallway that smelled horribly of a hospital. He was dragged into a simple room with a camera, a man with a lab coat writing scribbling on his clipboard as the officer pulled him in front of a bland background. "Smile." Kate said sarcastically as the camera clicked, John displaying a flirtatious and slightly exaggerated smirk, only to be dragged out of the room and forced down the hallway yet again. "We're creating you a new file to serve as basic information for your psychologist." Kate explained as she opened the door to yet another room, a simple table with chairs on either side, a girl with over-sized glasses and a knit scarf occupying on of them. "This is Osgood, she'll just be questioning you for the time being." she said as the officer led him in, John sitting down opposite of scarf girl. Kate closed the door as she left the room, only leaving him with Osgood and an officer to his right.

She started off by pushing up her glasses. "Alright, you will answer honestly, you got that?" she said in an uneasy voice. "Though I suppose it doesn't really matter, so what's the point in lying?" she asked, receiving no answer from John. She wasn't expecting one. "Full name?" she asked, clicking her pen, a pet peeve that made him want to snarl at her. "John Smith." he muttered. Osgood eyed him. "Unusually ordinary..." she noted, yet writing his words on the file. "Age and date of birth?" she looked up to meet his eye. "Twenty-seven, November twenty-third, year 3320." he stated, a little bit louder this time, and he was answering truthfully. He didn't see a point in lying. Osgood nodded. "Well, John, I see that you have something in common between you and your new partner." she stated; 'partner' meaning his assigned psychologist.

"Does that make a difference?" he muttered under his breath. "To anything? To any of this?"

Osgood only smiled. "Plenty."

* * *

**Five Years Ago, October  
**

_Martha stared at the television screen, the newscaster speaking rather diligently into her microphone, nothing but ashes and ruins surrounding her. The words 'Arcadia Has Fallen' were seen across the nation, devastating thousands of citizens as they realized that Arcadia's most prestigious and impressive institute had been destroyed in a bombing, a small portion of people coming out alive, and those alive were either injured or on the verge of suffocation. Arcadia specialized in science and mathematics, coming up with new enlightenment and experiments to help improve Gallifrey. And now, all of that work, all of those people, gone, dead, and underneath the wreckage that caused acrid sights of smoke to be seen from miles away. It was a wound that would take a very long time to repair itself, and its scar would only leave pity on the ones who saw. The most lucrative institutions of Arcadia had all been destroyed by explosives, stashed away in plain sight, hiding behind all of the noise. Without Arcadia, Gallifrey would fall a from a tremendous height.  
_

_Martha shook her head, for though she lived nowhere near Arcadia, she still felt as if a portion of her life was swept away with the smoke. She hastily turned off the television and curled up on the opposite side of the couch, biting her nail and quietly thinking to herself. Some believe that it was terrorists, and some believe that it was somebody hiding in the city. Martha didn't know what to believe, for every story and explanation seemed plausible. All that she knew was that parts of Arcadia were in ruins, and that somebody was responsible for it's defeat.  
_

_Little did she know that it was the same man who would send her that pen drive. _

* * *

He seemed to be sitting in the same chair for hours, for he couldn't seem to find a source of time in the tiny room. He presumed that it would be his new home then and until any memory of it would be erased, the life of a somewhat 'normal' human being would overtake its place. The room was simple, a wooden bed with thin weak sheets and a mirror for the vanity issues that he held, a long desk separating the room into two component halves, one half with his bed and the chair that he sat in, and one half with another chair.

His muscles became tense and sore, his hands still handcuffed behind his back, for even though he had only been in there for a time of ten minutes, it seemed as though he had already spent his life there. John couldn't imagine a simple life here at UNIT, and couldn't even picture the effect that his somewhat 'physiologist and supervisor' would have on him. Whoever it ended up to be, they'd probably end up being extremely uninteresting, as most people were in his perspective. They'd have to put up with him, but even worse, he'd have to put up with them. John wasn't much on mutual conversation, it usually consisted of silences and retorts.

That's when the door opened.

John's eyes widened at the sight, a figure in a white lab coat sitting down in the vacant seat across from his desk. He didn't expect it, he didn't expect how _young_ they'd be, how unusually _attractive_ they'd be either, but the one thing that caught his attention by a millennia was that they were indeed...female. The girl smiled politely back at him, a clipboard at hand as she smoothed out the dress underneath her coat. She was a petite girl, a mature face and yet a small physique, her brown hair tied into a neat ponytail atop of her head, her nose retroussé and her lips painted a subtle pink, the small dimple of her cheek remaining as she said, "A pleasure to finally meet you in person, Doctor." she raised an eyebrow at him as his confused face. "I've heard a lot about you."

"Yeah, well, I guess the media love me too much." he snapped back, making her laugh, which at the time John finally decided that he didn't like this girl. She, however, leaned her elbows on the clipboard that sat on her lap, her eyes curious. "I suppose they do." she said back calmly. "My name's Oswin." she offered back formally as she clicked her pen once, much to John's relief, as she sat back in her chair and read the information displayed on her clipboard. "Your real name's John Smith?" she asked, a keen eyed expression portrayed on her face as John narrowed his eyes at her. "Call my mother a bit unoriginal, but yeah." he said back, his voice clear and showing the greatest amount of apathy.

Oswin only nodded slowly, her eyes scanning the rest of the page. "Okay...so you're twenty-seven...and..." she stopped mid-sentence, raising an eyebrow at the next completed box. "You were born on November twenty-third?" she asked quietly. John only nodded his head. Oswin let out an amused_ 'hmm'_ as she said, "Well, I suppose that you and I share a birthday." she admitted, shaking off the uneasy feeling, for sharing a birthday with a criminal wasn't exactly to be taken as lighthearted luck. _Don't worry. _She had assured herself. _He won't even remember you in five weeks. _It was a thought that made her feel slightly better. "Alright, Doctor," she said, straightening her posture. "You will be taking several tests over the course of the next few weeks, and your first one is to be taken place..." she trailed off to shrug, a small scoff escaping from her lips. "Now, actually." she admitted, looking him straight in the eye. "You ready?"

"Do I have a choice?" he asked back honestly.

Oswin laughed. "No, I suppose you don't."

* * *

**A/N: Hi there! Just a note that this is fictional and far from realistic, so if some aspects of this story seem kind of off to reality then there's a reason for that. ;) I'd like to thank everyone who's read so far! This story won't update very often I'm afriad, but once school is finished (Ugh I hate finals...) you'll see more updates! :D**


	3. Chapter 3

**Part One: An Empire's Criminal**

_"What a treacherous thing to believe that a person is more than a person." - John Green (Paper Towns)_

* * *

**Chapter Three: Stale Blood**

The clouds had just seemed to envelope the sky with its lonesome depression after that, at least from the perspective of Amelia Williams. She sat on her worn out couch in her flat, her elbows resting on both knees as her breathing could be heard before her, strands of her askew red hair becoming ignored as her eyes seemed to look past it, for it seemed as though vanity didn't matter at a time like this, which it really didn't. Her eyes were focused on the television that made her eyes sting with the tears that she didn't even know were being cried; it was as if she were undergoing a heavily suffered ambiguous loss.

It was practically everywhere, _John Smith claimed to be The Doctor_, a statement that Amy wouldn't allow herself to believe. And that's where she fell into place, _Amelia Williams, the lunatic who tried to seek otherwise. _She had really tried to see some good in him, just enough to give the prosecutors an unsure conclusion, but no, it was certainly conclusive. If the DNA matched, then he was him, and him was he; and it's simplicity really seemed to mock her. (She placed all of the blame on science.) Amy just couldn't bring herself to believe that John had the strength to _kill _somebody, physically _and_ mentally; for how could somebody sleep with that kind of blood and guilt on their hands? Yes, it was certainly plausible when given the option of being a criminal, and maybe Amy really _was _crazy, but John and felony to her was an unlikely companionship. John and _depression_, well, in her right of mind; that alternative was closer to her understanding.

She tried to watch the news to help convince her. It didn't exactly work.

Amy turned the television off once she heard the front door open, a loud bang with a phantom of strong wind allowing itself entrance, a lanky, worry-faced husband by the name of Rory Williams coming to the sights of his wife in a lost state on their couch, the morbid smell of the hospital coming from his scrubs; a smell that Amy found repulsing. Rory only came home early on emergencies, and, well, one would say that this was an exception. "Hey, are you alright?" he asked hastily, draping his coat over the side of the couch. Amy didn't respond right away, as if her auditory receptors were running a bit slower; heaving an exasperated sigh as she craned her neck to meet her eyes with his. "Oh, yeah, my coworker got arrested today, and I was interrogated by the police; I'm over the moon." she shot back sarcastically, only to earn a glare from her husband. She shook her head, hiding her face with her hands as Rory sat down next to her, leaning back on the couch as Amy only scooted further away from him. "Amy..." he started.

"No, I'm not going to _sit _here and have you scold me for-"

"Stop acting like a child."

"Well stop _treating_ me like one!"

"You shouldn't have interacted with him the first place! He could have _killed _you Amy-"

"But he_ didn't_!" she snapped back harshly, glaring at him. Rory didn't understand; he never did. "Listen Rory, call me insane, but he was a friend to me, maybe he didn't see me the same way, but I cared for him, and if you can't understand that..." she shook her head in disbelief, but she knew that Rory had a right to be angry with her, but she had just wanted to make the point out that _she knew what she was doing. _If she died to the guilt of John's hands, so be it; for humanity's plans were made just as so. But that was what she was saying, humanity didn't kill her. She was still well alive; she was still standing. John's soft, muttered voice still rang in her ear from the previous hours. _"I'm sorry." _He had actually apologized to her, something that she never had expected out of him before. His touch felt gentle, and that's why she tried so hard to convince him that people could indeed change. She held hope in him, and she still did.

"I think..." she trailed off immediately, the look coming from Rory telling her that she shouldn't push it further, but she couldn't hold it in. "I think that he's sorry for all that he's done." she muttered, her words only placing her husband in further disbelief. John Smith, the intellectual psychopath that had earned his false attention from the media, now deluding his wife into thinking that he himself was _sorry? _Rory wasn't going to let her accept such deranged possibilities. "You can see it in him, him keeping himself locked away from the world because nobody will grow to accept who he really is, and...and every day, that look on his face, he's ashamed of what he's done, Rory, if you could only see him-"

"I don't need to." he answered simply, his voice stern and convicted. "All I know is that he is, and forever will be, a criminal. Even if UNIT decides to brainwash him like the rest, he'll never be able to wash the guilt off of his hands." he snapped, standing up from the couch and grabbing his coat with him. He took one look at her for him to have guilt wash over like a tide, fast, and not so easily forgettable. She looked terrible, her red hair tangled and her eyes red, and yet, he still thought she was beautiful. "Amy, look, I'm-"

"Don't talk to me." she snapped back, her voice quiet, as if she had no power, her actions reflecting off of how she really felt. She couldn't understand why Rory was still here, living with her, wearing the wedding ring she had ever so happily agreed to accept two years ago. They're relationship had seemed pointless, and yet in the end, they still had each other. "I'm...I'm going to take a shower." Rory announced, opening the door to their bedroom.

"Okay." Amy mumbled back.

Rory only nodded, heading back into their room. He stopped mid-way, standing in the threshold, turning back for a brief moment to look at Amy. "Hey..." he said gently, her head lifting slightly just to meet his eyes. "...I love you." he said, and, even after every fault they had, he still meant it.

Amy was quiet, pondering over whether she should believe him or not, for with everything they had been through, against each other; she had a hard time coming to conclusions. Rory was still her husband, he was still that boy whom she had never stopped dreaming about, he was still the one whom she had promised to take care of, she still saw that in him. Finally, after a long, deadly silence, she said, "I lov-"

Only to see that Rory had already left.

* * *

**Two Years Ago, April**

_"Miss Oswin Oswald?"  
_

_The lady herself jolted in surprise as she took a witness account into her surroundings, chairs and a little amount people surrounding the quiet dim lit waiting room of UNIT's main office above ground. Oswin stood up from her chair, attempting to smooth out the wrinkles in her navy blue trench coat, then realizing that she should probably invest some money for an ironing board. She cringed slightly at the appearance. Nevertheless, with the positive attitude still blooming in her, Oswin walked over to the front receptionist's desk, taking a good look of the woman before her. Her auburn hair was in bangs that swept across her forehead, a piece of pink gum between her teeth, her attitude and posture seeming a bit odd for a person her age, and yet Oswin admired her spunk.  
_

_The receptionist scanned the girl up and down with her eyes, and after a long silence, finally asked, "You Oswin Oswald?" _

_She nodded politely. "Yes ma'am."  
_

_The receptionist popped her gum in reply, her manicured fingernails typing quickly and precisely on the keyboard before her, at a dexterity level that Oswin couldn't exactly comprehend. "Aha, here you are..." she trailed off to scan her UNIT profile before popping her gum again, as if it were a way of talking. "Oswin, you're our new physiologist, am I right?"_

_"I believe so." she smiled in reply._

_"Okay, I gotcha, no need to be all smiley with me Oz, mind if I call you that? It suits you." _

_Oswin couldn't exactly come to terms with that. "Um, okay-" _

_"Perfect! Alright, Oz." she clapped her hands together, popping her gum yet again. "My name's Donna, I will be the one you confirm your presence and absence to here at UNIT, you sign in and out through me, you got that?" she asked quickly, Oswin taking a few seconds longer to take it all in than she had figured, nodding her head slightly in reply as Donna continued on with her instruction. _

_She pulled out a laminated plastic card, handing it to Oswin as she took it into her own hands. "This will be your identification card, it will be your entrance to all things UNIT, so don't lose it!" she looked at her warily. "To sign in and out, just place it in front of the main scanner like so," Donna instructed with her own ID, a faint beeping noise emitting from the machine on the wall as she placed it back into her own pocket. "Oh look, now I'm on lunch break." she let out a laugh as she took a contract from underneath her desk, handing Oswin a fountain pen. "Just sign at the bottom," she said as Oswin did as she was told, signing her name in cursive on the dotted line. _

_"Fantastic, Kate will be waiting for you on the seventh floor underground. Don't feel so relieved, she's gonna make you go through all of these tedious security tests before you actually begin working." Donna rolled her eyes as Oswin slowly nodded her head in agreement. "Just sign in and head on down there." she announced, Oswin scanning her card and heading towards the elevator behind the receptionist's desk. _

_She breathed in and out, for she couldn't believe that she was finally doing this. She was working for UNIT, not exactly her dream job as a child, but it sure felt like an accomplishment in her small provincial life. She had been working for the past few years of her life to attain such a goal, making sure that her certificates of medical achievement were in a pristine condition and order for her portfolio, every interview appearance professional. This was a way for her to be relieved from the controversial, traumatic drama known as her own life, to forget about the events of the past, which, in her opinion, was certainly possible with the right attitude towards it, just not easy. _

_Oswin had put up with the months of studying, for it seemed as if she were doing so for far too long. People had told her that centuries ago it would take nearly ten years to become acquainted and accustomed to the field of medicine, and looking at it, Oswin couldn't imagine the work and effort obtained to fulfill such a vast subject. Now with science and highly improved technology, one could become a part of the medicine field in nearly half the time than it used to. Medicines designed to pursue an increase in the speed of understanding and learning ability, medicines that expanded a better memory span in the human brain. Oswin found it all brililant, and yet, so easy. _

* * *

She led him into a room with four white walls, two chairs facing one another in the center of its clarity. Though they didn't have a grip on his handcuffs, the guards kept a wary eye out for any signs of rebellion from John, his wrists becoming sore and red from the metal. Luckily, they unlocked him from his chains, slamming the door immediately to prevent any attempts in escape. "Alright, no need to be so hasty." he muttered under his breath, Oswin only smiling at him idly. "What?" he asked her in defense, rubbing the skin of his wrists in order to soothe the pain. "Nothing." she denied, shaking her head with a suspicious grin on her face.

"No, no, you're _laughing _at me; don't tell me _'nothing'_." he retorted, mocking her tone of voice as she arched her eyebrow at him, for she knew herself that she didn't sound like that.

Oswin rocked back and forth on her feet. "I don't know, maybe I'm laughing at the way you talk to yourself even though you think you're so clever." she shrugged. "_Maybe _I'm laughing at your nonexistent eyebrows." she offered, nonchalantly buttoning the buttons on her lab coat, John only glaring at her in return. "Or _maybe _I'm laughing at the fact that your chin could put someone's eye out," she looked up at the ceiling, walking over to John and patting his shoulder. "That's one _hell _of a facial feature." she whispered, as if it were a secret only to be known between the two of them. He scowled at her. "Come on," Oswin said calmly as she walked behind him, placing both hands on his shoulder and driving him forward toward their seats. For somebody her height, she was sure strong, forcing John to move when he honestly couldn't find a reason to himself.

As he sat down stubbornly, Oswin sat politely across from him, crossing her legs and folding her hands neatly on her lap. "While the technician's department prepares your simulation, I suppose I'll take the time to ask you a few questions. Do I remain understood?" she asked clearly.

John only cleared his throat, staring at her for a few lingering moments before he responded. "No, I don't actually. I think the whole ordeal's rather unfair."

"And why is that?"

"Well, you see, _you_ asking _me_ questions is like..." he trailed off, looking up at the ceiling, searching for an comprehensible explanation. "It's like giving a part of yourself away without getting anything in return, and for that I find it unfair." he offered, Oswin staring at him idly before she responded with a solution.

"Alright then," she replied, nodding her head slowly. "Then, to make this impartial, when I receive a response to my question, you can ask me one in return." she offered, to John's approval at the least. He only nodded his head in reply, Oswin doing the same as she thought for a moment, tapping her foot on the floor as she suddenly looked at him with a calm gaze. "In your opinion, what is the ulterior motive of any felony committed? And that includes past, present, and future."

His eyes narrowed at her, for it seemed as if she had just asked a question from a school assessment. "Jealousy, envy." he spat out, flicking the hair out of his eyes. "How hard has UNIT tried?" he asked.

"Sorry?" Oswin asked in slight confusion.

"In order to find me, how hard has UNIT tried?" he explained furthermore.

Oswin scoffed. "_Diligently, twenty-four seven_." she said in exaggerated sarcasm as she rolled her eyes. "If that's what you want to hear in order to fulfill your false attention." she muttered under her breath. This man was so full of himself. "When did you start exposing yourself to such _dangerous _activity, Mr. Smith?" she asked in a smooth, curious tone that seemed overemphasized on purpose of simply annoying him.

"Right after my life turned into such a damned massacre," he said roughly, for he wasn't lying, and he certainly didn't feel like talking about it. Oswin only raised an eyebrow at his choice of language. "Now tell me," he started, sucking in a deep breath and exhaling, a sly grin spreading across his face as he asked, "Has UNIT ever taken into consideration, say, opening up to the public media? I'm sure all of Gallifrey would love to hear what plans you have to punish us criminals in the future."

"_Considering _that you've already done that for us, Mr. Smith, I'm afraid that this question does not apply to terms." Oswin admitted frankly. "But, no, not from what I know. Where were you on the night on Arcadia's bombing?"

"Oh, _now _you're just interrogating me."

"This is not an interrogation," Oswin said lightly, smiling calmly. "Just a way to pass the time."

"Well what makes you think that I'm going to tell the truth?"

"Well, with this whole ordeal being a simple way to pass the time, what makes you think I'm going to believe you?"

"Are you aware of the fact that I could _kill _you right now?"

"Are you aware of the fact that _there is no point?_" she snapped back harshly, making John shut up immediately. He then realized that it would lead nowhere even if he had tried to hurt her, with guards observing every blink of an eye and a heavy consequence if he had even touched her. It was then when John became aware of the fact that, he was trapped, he was in a brainwashing prison, he wasn't going to remember any of this, he was going to end up being some normal human being who watches the nightly news and has a family with a girl whom he had yet to meet. It made him cringe at the normality. He wouldn't remember any of the crimes he had committed, he wouldn't remember his pretty (Yet overbearingly sassy) psychologist with her small smile and witty back talk, all of that would be washed away.

A moment of silence flooded over the two so easily that Oswin found it rather hard to break. It was only when the technician's department spoke through her earpiece when she could finally find the voice to merely cough. "Oh look. Time's up." she said confidently, John looking down at his worn-out boots as the sound of Oswin's heels could be heard, echoing and never seeming to come back as she opened the heavy metal door on the other end of the room, turning back to look at him one last time before saying, "I still expect an answer from you, Arcadia's not going to sleep well until whoever destroyed their city is caught." And with that, she shut the door behind her, a loud bang erupting from the impact.

John shook his head hastily, taking in his bland surroundings, four white, seemingly endless walls, an empty chair, and him. The walls seemed to show no sign of shape, as if they were just windows to an unfathomable infinity. He banged his two feet down on the floor, a loud thud echoing, but it never seemed to echo back to his ears. John closed his eyes, signing to himself in anger and exasperation, for UNIT wasn't exactly the most comfortable living residence.

But when he opened his eyes, the chair that Oswin had previously vacated was now gone, no trace of it ever leaving, or even being there in the first place. John looked around quickly, deluded into thinking that maybe someone had taken it from his sight, but there was no sign of life other than him in that endless room of infinity. _That's...that's not possible. _He breathed in and out, for it amazed him at how it was accomplished. When he looked back at the empty spot, it was no longer unoccupied, however, a glass pedestal stood before him, a simple cube sitting atop of it, nothing else. John stared at it for a while, trying to comprehend such impossible transportation. He stood up from his chair, slowly approaching the pedestal as if it were an alien object. It seemed so straightforward, and that's exactly what made it seem eerie. He eyed it carefully, then shaking his head in objection. _This is stupid. It's just a cube. _He told himself, and without a second thought, his arm extended to grasp the cube from its place, only to be met by the feeling of spiked pain.

"Ouch-" he winced as his eyes immediately darted to be met with small trickles of blood seeping through the skin of his palm. He looked at the cube, an alignment of small spikes, almost like needles, appearing on the surface, slowly descending back into the face of the cube, and just like that, it looked as if nothing had happened. John muttered curse words underneath his breath as he rubbed the blood onto his slacks, only to see that the pedestal, and the cube, had vanished.

He turned around to be met by a woman sitting in a chair, her brown hair slowly fading into a dry desolate grey and her eyes empty and yet so real. It took a few moments of staring for John to actually realize who she was. He was taken aback by such an appearance, jolting back with surprise as she sat with her legs crossed and her eyes curious. "...mum...?" he asked in a whispered voice, his tone weak and empty. She only stared at him, a flicker of agitation in her eyes as she asked, "Just, one question..." she said, her voice filled with the bittersweet memory of when she used to talk with him seriously. "...are you happy now?" she said clearly, making John realize that everything he had done, every crime and every life faded because of him, only lead to torment. It didn't bring him any sense of pride, or admiration, just attention, negative and hatred.

Suddenly, a quiet voice rang out in his ear. "John," it whispered, and by the deep Scottish accent, he already knew who it was. He turned around, and sitting in yet another chair, was Amelia, her red hair and bright hazel eyes staring at him, not in anger, but in disappointment. "Why did you shut me out?" she whispered in confusion, as if she were lost and clearly puzzled. He stared at her for a long lingering respite, as if he wanted to embrace her in his arms, but his feet stood fixed on the ground, watching her. "I tried talking to you, but it seemed as if you never listened, you just kept smoking your cigarettes and looking past me as if I were nothing but a ghost." she said in a muttered voice, John wincing at how horrible he had treated her. "Sometimes I wonder if you even knew that I was there."

"Doctor," another voice made his head turn with a sudden jerk, his eyes widening at who he saw next. Her massive frizzy curls that extended to all directions, her smile that persuaded you in any situation, and her eyes that said it all. "...Melody?"

"Hello sweetie." she pursed her lips together, her eyes filled with agitation, almost as if she were annoyed with him. "I thought you liked calling me River." she said slyly, circling around him as if she were studying him carefully. "You haven't changed much, from what I've heard."

"What's that supposed to mean?" he snapped back, eying her cautiously.

"Same stubborn, helpless, conceited act." she barked back. "I remember when we used to travel together," she shook her head in regret, pulling out a pack of cigarettes and a small box of matches. "Partners in crime, even though you took all of the credit." she laughed as if she were degrading him. "I'd come home after a long tiring day, looking for a little _sympathy_," she hissed, emphasizing her last word with the strike of her match. "But you were _always _too full of yourself to care." she said in a lighter tone, placing a lit cigarette in between her teeth. "Well, for your information, I'm still running sweetie, and let's just say I'm doing _much_ better without you."

* * *

**Six Years Ago, June**

_He heard a loud slam belonging to the front door, the sound of clicking heels and a loud sigh as he turned around in his desk chair, staring at his girlfriend as she lay exhausted on the couch. He merely shrugged, continuing to read his book as she raised her eyebrows at him, expecting some sort of greeting or even the slightest bit of recognition to her homecoming. "Well, hello to you too." she snapped, sitting up on the couch, raking her matted hair with her fingers. "It's not easy, you know, robbing thirteen men in a day." she scowled, emptying the contents of her jacket; wallets, keys, money, rings, and anything else valuable. River Song usually received her wealth from the skill of pickpocketing and her specially, which was none other than threatening. The Doctor and River Song had been running together for the past year, tension rising between the two as well as their love interest for one another, but that itself had consequences, and it had reached the point in which they treated each other like an ancient married couple. "This pays for your stay here, Doctor, so I would at least expect some sympathy for the woman who practically spoils you." she announced, The Doctor only glancing up to raise his eyebrows at her.  
_

_River scoffed. "Is that all I get? A mere look of nothing satisfactory? What do I have to do in order to get a little empathy from you?" she said coldly, The Doctor placing his book calmly on his lap and staring straight back at her. "You think you do all of the work, don't you?" he laughed, shaking his head. "Robbery," he scoffed back. "That's nothing but child's play." he replied, smiling at her as if she were just a little girl. "Now, say, hacking, I'd be impressed."  
_

_She sighed in disgust of his act. "You are so full of yourself, you know that?" _

_The Doctor only picked up his book once again, licking his finger and turning the page. "Calm down, sweetie, now prepare me a drink would you?" _

_"No, you should get off of your lazy ass and do it yourself for a change." she stood up for herself, something that she realized she should have been doing long ago. "I can't believe that I do all of this for you, and you don't appreciate one bit of it!" she yelled, walking over to him and snatching the book out of his hands. "You take so much for granted, and I'm here, slaving away for a narcissistic idiot who I cannot believe I had cared about for so long." She was yelling now, The Doctor standing up only to look down on her.  
_

_"You think that you're so smart, don't you?" he said. "You would be lost without me, I bet you wouldn't stand a chance at living a life by yourself." he spat, River's anger only increasing as he pushed past his limits. "And even if I did leave, you'd probably just find another man to depend on, anyways." he said, River slapping him in the face, a cold expression on her face even though tears started to run down her face. He had gone too far. When she had first met him, she thought he was the perfect guy, a criminal who she could run with forever, him and her against the rest of the world, not them against each other. But some things just couldn't last, no matter how much River wanted them to, their relationship too worn out and scared to ever be repaired, and she could never forgive him for the things he had said to her.  
_

_"Get out." she muttered, her voice barely a whisper, The Doctor looking at her in disbelief. _

_"Excuse me?" he said harshly. _

_"I said," she replied, louder this time. "GET OUT!" she yelled, stepping back to give him some space to make his way to the front door of their little hotel room. He looked at her as if the whole command was just a joke, but her cruel stare told him that she was serious; she never wanted to see him again. "River, come on-" he started, but she wouldn't take a second of his pleading.  
_

_"If you feel like you deserve better, then you're free to go and look for it." she said calmly, hiding her rage inside of her heart. He had treated her as if she was nothing but weak, he hadn't treated her like a partner, he had treated her like a pet, and she felt blinded by his false charm and expectations, and she couldn't believe that her world had revolved around him for so long. She couldn't take it anymore. She broke all of the strings between him and her, and she didn't take it as letting him go, she saw it as letting herself free. And she didn't regret her decision.  
_

_And just like that, he left. _

_And she couldn't have been more relieved in her life. _

* * *

His head snapped up, realizing that he was still sitting in his chair, Oswin sitting patiently in front of him as she carefully unclasped a metal device from his left ear, moving his long brown hair out of the way as she took the small instrument into her hands. John looked around frantically, for he was still in the same room, but River wasn't there next to him, or his mother, or Amy, just Oswin, sitting in her chair, just as she was before. "How, what..." he sputtered. "How did you get back in here?" he asked her, to which Oswin only smiled politely. "I never really left. You went under simulation after we finished our nice little chat." she said nonchalantly as she toyed with the small headset in her tiny hands.

"You see, you wear this during every simulation, it records and processes every little thing that goes on, isn't that neat?" she said as if John were just a former friend and not a criminal, which, he did have to admit, felt a little nice.

"Is this how every simulation is going to work?" he asked.

Oswin looked up from the small machine to meet his gaze. "Primarily, yes. Easy as that, just like a dream."

John only sighed in reply, for a dream, it felt rather realistic. It was as if he could still smell the smoke of River's cigarette.

"However, the simulations will test you on different aspects, just to determine and design the new life you will be embarking in quite some time." she noted, and not in a pleasant optimistic tone. She sounded as if she understood where he was going, even though John didn't think that she had a clue, his whole _life _was about to be forgotten, rewritten in order to suit someone who he could never be just by himself, and now, science was going to change his life entirely.

Oswin only sighed back in reply to the silence, finally removing what seemed as though a memory card from his headset, and holding it carefully in between her thumb and index finger, she said, "Would you like to watch your simulation?"

* * *

_**Meanwhile, at The Rose and Crown**_

Mrs. Charlotte Hamilton carefully placed her glass of wine down on the table, watching her dinner partner do the same, Mrs. Emily Foster, as they sat down together at the small rundown bar in the downtown area of Gallifrey's capitol. The two were usually prone to gossiping about situations at which they could look down upon, and for a brief moment, it was The Doctor. Charlotte, a woman in her mid-thirties, looked at the television screen behind the bar tender's head, able to take a good look at the news that was displayed for that evening. The video was national by now, practically viral, The Doctor getting arrested and caught for good at the census, his coworker by the name of Amelia Williams trying to save him nevertheless."It's a real shame, you know, having people like that in our world, living a life of felony." she said in pity, taking a sip from her glass and shaking her head. "Jealousy is the prime enemy of us, isn't it Emily?"

"I couldn't see a better way of describing it, Charlotte." she complimented, leaning her elbows on the edge of the counter as she looked down at her wine glass.

She only shook her head, disregarding the whole conversation and moving on to another topic. "Well, let's not be too morbid, and besides, I have other things to tell you."

"Such as?"

Charlotte grinned as she looked over to her friend. She sat sideways in her chair, talking in a lower voice so no one else would hear. "For starters, Bob Chilcott, the owner of the place; well, I've heard he's been on a waitress's case lately, supposedly she's been keeping secrets about her second profession, isn't that weird?"

Emily only raised her eyebrows, for she didn't see it as surprising. "Well, she does have a right to privacy, doesn't she Charlotte?"

Charlotte waved her comment off the side. "Yes, of course, but here's the interesting bit. Bob asked her where she was heading off to at such a crucial time of business, he was practically begging on his knees for her to work the shift, and she said that she had her own work to do elsewhere. He asked her what kind of work, and did you know what she said?"

There was a small respite when Emily finally had to say,"What?"

"She said, and I quote, 'You'd never believe me'. Isn't that suspicious?"

"Suspicious indeed." Emily remarked, nodding her head. "What was the girl's name?"

Charlotte looked up to the ceiling, sighing as she searched her mind for an answer. "Ah...let me see here...Claire? Clancy? I can't remember, something with a 'C'; but whatever her name is, she is definitely strange."

Emily took her glass and took a long sip, simply going along with whatever her friend had to say. "Definitely strange indeed."

* * *

**A/N: And, as you can see, the story progresses! :D **

**This fan fiction has a number of stories combined into one, Amy and Rory's circumstances, John's past (And future!), as well as the mystery of Oswin's life and such; so you'll see a lot of back stories in Part One, which will probably be ten chapters or so. **

**Thank you to everyone who has supported this story, whether you've followed or reviewed, I truly appreciate it. :)**


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